Seijun Suzuki: The Early Years Volume 1

Now that streaming has become the de facto source of entertainment for most people under thirty, the doors have opened for courageous niche companies to take a chance on new material that hasn't been repurposed, repackaged and resold for the umpteenth time. Case in point, Arrow's limited edition box set Seijun Suzuki: The Early Years Volume 1, which gathers five of the director's "youth" movies that have never seen the light of day outside Japan. Suzuki, probably best known for his stylish yakuza films like Branded to Kill that irked studio superiors, proves here he can work elegantly within the studio system, injecting some creative inspiration into otherwise cut-and-paste formulaic fare.

Releasing films at a ridiculous pace to take advantage of passing fads, Nikkatsu Studios latched onto the burgeoning youth culture - most likely inspired by James Dean's iconic performance in Rebel Without A Cause - showcasing their own pantheon of juvenile delinquents raging against the educational system and a set of rapidly changing social mores. The formula is distinctly repetitive (watching the whole set in one setting isn't your best bet), but the cream always rises to the top.

And the cream here is the first film in the set, The Boy Who Came Back (1958), starring Suzuki regular Akira Kobayashi as a Nobuo, a troubled teen under the guidance of his "Big Sister," Keikio, part of a volunteer social organization to get kids back on the right path. His rough and tumble lifestyle, however, is hard to shake. Harassed not only by the police but by former friends who resent his new straight-laced lifestyle, Nobuo is set up to take the fall for the kidnapping and rape of his own girlfriend.

Suzuki introduces a number of key ingredients to the youth formula here, including the all-important female aspect of the films - yin and yang figures, one honest and demure, the other manipulative and cheap - that pull our hero in conflicting directions. While the formula would repeat, no one can quite duplicate Akira Kobayashi's charismatic performance. He give the role a modern edge that is decidedly dangerous and sympathetic at the same time.

The Wind-of-Youth Group Crosses the Mountain Pass (1961) is an altogether different type of story involving a wayward student who becomes involved with a struggling troupe of entertainers. Light, goofy and romantic with a conflict that comes across as overtly comical compared to the other films in the set, this one is the outlier of the bunch but a nice change of pace.

Teenage Yakuza (1961) slips back into the familiar world of street-level thugs as a well-meaning guy defends his neighborhood from a troublesome gang only to have his best friend defect to the other side. The Incorrigible (1963) bounces back with the story of a rebellious dropout sent to a strict boarding school who rubs everyone the wrong way; everyone except the girl whose affection he avidly pursues, revealing his true gentle nature locked inside. It's all part-and-parcel of the youth film formula that continues with the final film in the set - Born Under Crossed Stars (1965) - which repeats the story with shuffled ingredients and a slightly more developed sense of humor.

For those familiar with Japanese cinema, there's a charm in the repetition. Suzuki finds new points of emphasis and expands upon several themes along the way. As a guide to his development as a director, it's essential stuff, particularly from a visual standpoint. His camera glides with an unobtrusive elegance, never interrupting the action but subtly enhancing it. And there's a surprising formality to the shot compositions, highlighting Man's place in nature, which his later work eschews in favor of more urban environments.

But the films themselves aren't simply relics to be enjoyed only by stuffy film scholars; despite the cultural differences, each story is relatable, engaging and fun with a surprising amount of racy (for the time) content. Some are more successful than others at aping the James Dean-vibe the studio was obviously going for (check out some of the sensationalistic trailers online), but each installment rearranges the settings, characters and time periods to keep things fresh.

The transfers on each film (only one is in color) look very good with beautiful black-and-white contrasts and a healthy amount of grain. Extras include a 30-minute interview with film scholar Tony Rayns who runs through the cyclical nature of Japanese genre films and gives some perspective to Suzuki's career at the same time. A 60-page illustrated booklet featuring new writing by author Jasper Sharp is also included in the 3000-copy limited edition Blu-ray set.